Memories
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Visser Three was always the one who knew Elfangor best.


**Author Notes:** I always saw this pairing whenever I read The Andalite Chronicles. The quote at the beginning comes from The Pretender. I'm using square brackets because I can't figure out how to make the proper Andalite thought speak triangular brackets work.

-^-

_"I ... I knew your father. We were, shall we say, on the opposite sides of certain issues. But he was no fool." Suddenly Aria/Visser Three smiled. It was a faraway smile, like she/he was remembering something from long ago. "Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul was no fool. And the galaxy will not soon see his like again."_

Tobias threw up his hands, his face hard. "Good grief, you're as crazy as he was."

Visser Three watched as Tobias left, swaggering slightly. The door closed behind him.

DeGroot leaned down and while keeping a deferential distance, whispered, "Shouldn't we take him? Just to be safe? Make him one of us?"

Visser Three snorted, enjoying the vibrating feeling in his human throat. "He's street trash. A waste of a Yeerk. Elfangor would be ashamed. His son should be a warrior. A worthy adversary, not some young fool. A pity, really." Sometimes he really wished that enemies nowadays were as interesting as Elfangor. He might have been a piece of despicable Andalite scum, but at least he was fascinating. In fact, the entire Andalite culture was remarkable.

Suddenly, Visser Three realised DeGroot was still in the room. Obviously, the human emotions pumping through this feeble human body were making him weak. "Leave me," he ordered.

DeGroot nodded. "Yes, Visser." He bowed deeply and then left the room.

Visser Three stood up and with deft human fingers, locked the door. He picked up the letter that DeGroot had left on the table and examined the signature.

_Elfangor. _

They had been through a lot together. A lot more than either of them had cared to admit. Visser Three still remembered the look in Elfangor's eyes when the Visser had morphed that monster and swallowed him whole. It was part defiance and part something else. He knew that nobody else would have been able to tell what the expression was. Nobody except him.

Nobody else knew Elfangor as well as he did.

-^-

It was like a nightmarish swirl of the Andalite and Yeerk home worlds. Visser Three wasn't sure how he had suddenly appeared here. One minute, he had been on the bridge of the newest Yeerk Empire ship, the Blade Ship, and the next minute, he was back in this horrible world created by the Time Matrix.

Except, he realised, it wasn't quite the same. There were no human elements now. And there seemed to be nobody else there, no animals, no Yeerks, no Andalites. It was just him and Elfangor.

Elfangor stared at him.

Visser Three couldn't help but think that Elfangor looked just as surprised as him. Elfangor kept on turning his head, almost as if he had forgotten about his stalk eyes.

[What Yeerk trick is this?] Elfangor spat in thought speak.

[We are not here because of my doing,] Visser Three snapped. [I suspect that this was because of those mythical creatures of yours. Those Ellimists.] He quite enjoyed watching Elfangor jerk back in surprise.

[Double-crossing bastards.]

Visser Three wasn't quite sure what those words meant, but he suspected that it was some form of Earth epitaph. [I presume I'm right then.]

[He tricked me,] Elfangor fumed.

Visser Three almost laughed. If he still had a Hork-Bajir body, he would have laughed. Apparently, the mythical god-like creatures of Andalite fairy tales had chosen to put him and Elfangor together, again. He couldn't help but eye Elfangor's tail blade. It didn't seem as though Elfangor was holding it correctly. It was almost as though he had forgotten how to be an Andalite.

Still, Visser Three didn't want to take the chance. His host body remembered seeing Elfangor on the Taxxon homeworld. He wasn't going to take that chance. Yet.

-^-

They had been on the strange nightmare world for almost a month before Elfangor came over to where Visser Three had made his scoop. They had spent the entire month waging their own version of the giant galactic war between the Andalites and the Yeerks. Except, neither of them had shredders or any other form of weaponry. No allies. No animals. Nothing at all. It had been a month of flurried tail fighting in which neither of them seemed able to get the upper hand.

[Truce,] Elfangor said flatly, walking towards Visser Three with his hands held up. Visser Three suspected that it was perhaps some human form of non-verbal communication. [I want a truce.]

[Don't be ridiculous,] Visser Three said coldly. [Why would I want to have a truce with Andalite scum like you?] He was curious though. There must have been a reason why Elfangor would want a truce.

Elfangor held up a sharpened piece of rock and pressed it against the delicate veins on his wrist.

Visser Three was surprised. [If you wish to kill yourself, go ahead.]

Elfangor looked grim. [I am not killing myself,] he said. [In fact, neither of us can die.]

Before Visser Three could blink, Elfangor had pressed down with the stone. Blood spurted out of the wound. Elfangor lifted his hand away from the wound and before Visser Three's eyes, the wound coagulated and closed. There wasn't even a scar.

[See?] Elfangor said. [Now will you accept a truce?]

-^-

Visser Three was surprised to find Elfangor to be an interesting conversationalist, provided that they steered the conversation away from the sciences or the human race. Elfangor froze up whenever he tried to talk about Z-space and ships.

[You do realise we already have this technology,] Visser Three pointed out.

Elfangor glared at him. [I will not reveal Andalite secrets.]

Visser Three found it pointless to explain yet again that the Yeerks already had this technology. That Prince Seerow had already given them the information. That Elfangor wouldn't be revealing anything and that it would give them something else to talk about. Something else to distract them from the monotony of this created world.

Still, Visser Three found that he was learning about the Andalite world. He already prided himself on knowing about Andalite culture and beliefs. From what he had learned from Andalite ships as well as his host body, he already knew more than most Yeerks. However, Elfangor provided a different perspective on the Andalite world. A younger, less jaded perspective.

Visser Three was surprised to find that he enjoyed talking with Elfangor.

-^-

[I don't think we're ever getting off this world,] Elfangor said flatly.

Visser Three couldn't help but mentally agree. He wasn't going to admit it though. [What? The Andalite arrogance has finally left you?]

To his surprise Elfangor laughed, a bubbling thought speak laugh. [I didn't think you Yeerks had a sense of humour.]

Visser Three was almost positive that he didn't, but there was a part of him that warmed at the words. He quashed that thought. It was ridiculous. They had a temporary truce, that was all. They were enemies. Elfangor would kill him if he had the chance. He would kill Elfangor in a heartbeat.

They hated each other.

And yet, the look Elfangor gave him didn't seem like it was filled with hatred.

-^-

[Do you remember Loren? Elfangor asked, one day.

Visser Three nodded. He seemed to have picked up this human gesture from Elfangor. [I do.]

[I wonder how she's doing.]

[She was interesting,] Visser Three admitted. He had a small amount of admiration for the human female. She was a worthy adversary.

[I miss her.]

Visser Three wasn't sure what possessed him to do what he did next. He walked over and reached out a hand and ran it down the side of Elfangor's cheek.

Elfangor gave a start and stared at him.

Visser Three knew what he had done. It was the equivalent of what humans did when they pressed their mouths together. It was what Yeerks did before they mated. It was what Hork-Bajir did when they pressed their horns together. Yet, it had seemed like the right thing to do.

Slowly, Elfangor lifted his hand.

Visser Three shivered from where Elfangor touched him.

-^-

And then.

Almost as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

Visser Three found himself on the bridge of his fighter. From the commotion around him, he surmised that no time had passed at all. He wondered for a second where Elfangor was. His hearts twisted and then he pushed that thought aside.

He couldn't afford to think of Elfangor and to think about what could have been. A part of him wished that the Ellimist had just left them on that planet. It was simpler there. There was no ambition, no treachery, no anger or hate.

It was just him and Elfangor.

Visser Three steeled himself and began barking out orders.

It was a temporary truce. That was all.

-^-

Visser Three stared at the letter. Memories that were as clear as if they had happened yesterday still haunted him. Then, with a savage gesture, he crumpled the letter and threw it into a corner.

His two hour morphing time period was almost up. As Visser Three began to demorph, he could feel his eternal organs shifting, making room for an extra heart, the sound of his powerful Andalite tale blade appearing and, most of all, the weak human emotions disappearing.

He looked at the crumpled piece of paper in the corner.

[Goodbye Elfangor.]

-fin


End file.
